The Saddest Thing He's Ever Seen
by Gwen-Anna Hunter
Summary: Mycroft deals with the aftermath of the explosion. One Shot


Title: The saddest thing he's ever seen

Paring: Mycroft/John

Rating: PG

AN: Done for this prompt: "Mycroft cries.. in front of John."

Summary: Mycroft deals with the aftermath of the explosion.

Sherlock was fine….. and that was good.

"At what cost?" said the detective's voice, in an undertone.

Mycroft glanced at his brother; he looked worn out, like death warmed over. His heir was flat to his skull and a nasty bruise was forming on his right cheek, but he was fine, safe. The explosion had destroyed most of the pool and the surrounding area. He had arrived just in time to see his baby brother pulling an unconscious John from the building, covered in blood and water. Mycroft had seen plenty of gore in his time, what with Sherlock's crime scenes and London's underbelly. So why did his stomach churn horridly.

John

Such a simple answer, yet it complicated so much. The sick feeling should be gone, should have left as soon as Sherlock was by his side. Mycroft couldn't abide by this feeling, this discomfort and concern. Nothing was in focus; nothing was a sharp crystal clear image, as it should be. Nothing was complicated anymore; all of it was plain colour and no mid tones. Mycroft hated it, he needed his focus back, but that wasn't going to happen until John was safe. He almost didn't notice when a scrubs clad doctor approached them.

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes" both brothers chimed in unison.

The surgeon didn't even blink, "Mr. Watson-"

"Dr. Watson!" they both chimed in again, correcting him immediately.

The surgeon smiled apologetically, "Dr. Watson is stable. He has a concussion and servile fractured ribs; he should make a full recovery, but we would like to keep him sedated over night"

He could almost hear Sherlock sigh with relief. Mycroft found no joy in hearing of John's condition, hearing wasn't enough and he wanted to see that John was fine, safe. The surgeon seemed to have noticed this, as he led both men down the white washed corridor and into a small cold room. As there mother would have said, the place had no heart, it seemed positively dead to him. The only thing that decorated the spars square of a room, was a bed and in that bed lays the saddest thing Mycroft had ever seen.

John was wrong, he was pail, there were not tones in him ether, just a plain pallet and it was wrong! He was so still, Mycroft's vision was now so out of focus that it took him a wile to see the stedy rise and fall of his chest.

As he walked further into the room, Sherlock stayed back, looking torn between staying for his friend and leaving for the chase.

"I'm staying Sherlock" he croaked, unable to keep the rawness out of his voice. He turned and fixed his little brother with his wavering stare. Sherlock looked dumbstruck and simply looked back at his older brother, his eyes a lot more focused, before turning and striding purposefully out the door.

Mycroft, turning back, now fixed his eyes back upon John. He still looked wrong somehow. He wanted to wake him, barrage him with questions and demand to know if he was okay.

But instead he sat in the small cold chair in the small cold room and waited.

John POV

The first thing John could see was the clock, 1:45, god had he really slept that long? Wait, where was he? Last he could remember was at the pool…..wait, why was he at the pool again? Sherlock! That was it, something about the case and Moriarty…

Now he could remember, part of him wished he couldn't. Sherlock, the nut case, had shot the bloody bomb covered parker and John had pushed him into the water, half the building falling on him in the process. He knew the idiot was alright, the man had dragged him out the building for god's sake.

There was a sound to his left. Just a small sound, like the shifting of clothes, but it had almost made John jump out of his skin. He looked in the general direction of where the noise had come from and found something….something he thought he'd never see.

Mycroft sat hunched over, his head resting on crossed arms that lay on the bed, next to John's right arm. He was sound asleep and snoring just slightly.

John had never thought of himself as a wishful thinker and that particular daydream had never been in this setting, but it was lovely. The older man looked so open in sleep, like you could trust him easily and he could trust you just the same. He wore no polite mask in sleep.

Come to think of it, why was Mycroft here? Not that he wasn't pleased, it was just…strange. The man was often so closed off that it was frightening, he seemed to care for John as much as you would care for a college, in other words, not that much. But he couldn't help but he fascinated by the man, this was just another thing to add to the list of "Things I like about Mycroft Holmes" and that was a long list already.

As John watched, Mycroft shifted in his sleep again, emitting a small noise, a frown creasing his peaceful fetchers. He shifted again, frowning harder, the noise louder this time.

"John"

The man himself gasped, now staring at the sleeping form as if he was a wonder.

Mycroft was physically shivering now, as if the contents of his dreams were frightening him beyond belief. His hands were fisting in the blankets like a life line, like he was grabbing for something.

"John" this time it came out as a whimper that broke his heart, he had to do something.

He reached down and grabbed Mycroft's shoulder, shaking him slightly.

Just like that, he sat bolt upright, eyes wide and face pail. Mycroft's eyes were unfocused for a moment before they settled on him, then widening still more and glazing over.

John tried to speak, but is voice croaked horribly. Without a word, the older man reached for a glass of water, tilting his head up slightly to help him drink.

After clearing his throat, he managed, "are you alright?"

Mycroft smiled, very slightly, "I should be asking you the same thing, shouldn't I?" His voice sounded even worse then John's did.

John just gave him his "I'm a doctor that you should not mess with" looks and Mycroft seemed to relent a little.

"I am fine now doctor, no need to worry." He said in mock exasperation. Well that was a lie, the hand that still lay on the bed was shaking and his body was so tense it was palpable. Whatever was in that dream, it must have shaken him badly, his eyes still weren't properly in focus.

John didn't know why he did it, he didn't seem to have the foresight to stop himself ether, it just seemed like the right thing to do. So he placed his hand carefully over Mycroft's and squeezed.

The reaction was completely unaccounted for, the older men turned there hands and threaded the fingers together, holding on tightly. Instead of making things better, as John had intended, they seemed to get worse. Mycroft's shaking was now uncontrollable, his body still tense and breath now laboured. The poor man was a wreck.

John couldn't sit up, but he needed to get to more of the man the just his hand, so he tugged insistently, "Mycroft…..come on, come here. Calm down."

He came willingly, but just so he was hovering over him. He looked so lost. It was this that made up his mind for him, he pulled Mycroft down and hugged him fiercely.

And just like that, it all melted away. Mycroft buried his face in John's neck, hands fisting at his back, pulling him as if he was trying to get inside him. Silent sobs raked his body as he tried to calm his breathing. John pulled him in further, steadying him as the worst of it passed.

Mycroft POV

Mycroft braced himself on ether side of John's shoulders. He still looked ill and not quit right, but he was awake and alive.

Fine….and safe.

He couldn't help but smile and his reward was John smiling warmly back at him. He reached up to him and wiped the tear tracks from Mycroft's face. Totally unexpected and that was one of the things he liked best about this man. So unpredictable and beautiful.

Mycroft knew now, why he had felt so ill upon seeing John like that. He cared for him and, he found, he didn't mind that. It was unprecedented, unpredicted.

Just like John.


End file.
